


Good Things Come In Threes

by colossally_fubar



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, M/M, Queer Character, Sexual Content, alcohol consumption, allergic reactions, slice of life fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-15
Updated: 2016-03-02
Packaged: 2018-04-14 19:51:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 19,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4577706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colossally_fubar/pseuds/colossally_fubar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A real life AU in which Reiner Braun, Bertholdt Hoover, and Annie Leonhart are German international students attending the University of Washington in Seattle. The antics of the trio and their friends in the 104th as they battle college life, and real life. Dealing with Reiner's habitual pantlessness, Annie's sense of German guilt, and Bertholdt's severe allergies might not always be easy, but Bertholdt, Reiner, and Annie routinely prove the German saying of "all good things are three".</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Reiner Braun was roused from his nap by the sound of a key turning in the lock. He sat up, rubbing his eyes, letting out a shockingly loud yawn. “Bertl?” he called out sleepily, his gaze fixated on the cherry red door. 

“Y-yeah, it’s me.” His boyfriend, Bertholdt Hoover, half-stumbled through the door, attempting to balance his bike with one hand while holding the door open with the other. The damp Seattle air wafted through the open door as Bertholdt struggled. Reiner immediately jumped off the couch, eager to help. The panniers of Bertholdt’s old road bike were stuffed to the brim with foodstuffs. 

“You’re making dinner tonight?” Reiner asked, unable to contain his excitement. For the past few days, Bertholdt had been struggling to finish a presentation for his research, meaning long hours spent between the Suzzallo Library and the chemistry lab with few hours spent at home. While Reiner could scrape by on top ramen and microwave mac-n-cheese, he sorely missed the home cooked meals that Bertholdt prepared. 

Bertholdt gave an enthusiastic nod. “Is Annie coming over?” Reiner could tell by the faint smile on Bertholdt’s lips, that he was excited to see their childhood friend, who had grown up with them in the Saarland of Germany. 

“Of course. It’s her movie night, too.” Reiner tried to suppress a frown.

“Oh no, if it’s a scary movie again…” 

“I’ll tell her she’s banned from our place until she can pick a not-scary movie.” 

Reiner began putting away the groceries as Bertholdt opened up the fridge. He could sense his boyfriend’s discontent as Bertholdt took a step back from the fridge, his arms crossed. “Reiner… what is this?” he asked, making the switch from English to German. 

“Uhhh…” Reiner felt his face grow red. Replying in their native language, he said, “I used some of your grant money to restock the fridge.” 

Bertholdt shook his head in mock despair. “My grant money? You know I can’t stomach a stout.” 

Reiner was quick to move to the fridge, pushing the row of Elysian stout to reveal a second row of beer. “See? I got your favorite pale ale, too. Bertl, you have no taste.” 

The corner of Bertholdt’s mouth twitched in slight irritation. Reiner could tell that Bertholdt was withholding a comment about his own beer tastes, but instead Bertholdt grumbled, “You realize there is little space for anything else, now? I don’t know where I’ll put the milk and eggs…” With a resigned sigh Bertholdt began rearranging the fridge. 

Reiner left Bertholdt to reorganizing the fridge, and he returned to restocking the pantry. The kitchen was admittedly not his province; he could survive on frozen dinners, and the most cooking he ever did was placing rice in the rice cooker or instant dinners in the microwave. Yet Bertholdt could spend hours making food. Even if he wasn’t the greatest cook, he was certainly competent, and for that Reiner was grateful. 

Bertholdt finished reorganizing the fridge as Reiner put the last of the groceries away; Bertholdt shut the fridge door with his hip, two beers in hand. With that, they sank down on the couch. Bertholdt took off his blue sweater in favor of pulling his favored University of Washington sweatshirt over his head. It was so baggy on him, like many of his clothes— it was impossibly hard to find clothing that fit Bertholdt’s tall, lanky frame. The hoodie was part of his Bertl, though, and contentedly Reiner rested his head on Bertholdt’s mop of dark hair. Friday evenings were for movie watching, cuddles and kisses, beers and banging, though the last on the list could only happen when Annie finally went home. 

A very assertive set of three short knocks on the door shook Reiner out of his daydreams. Only one person knocked on their door like that. “I’ll get it,” Bertholdt said quickly, as three more knocks resounded through their living space. 

Their diminutive friend entered the apartment, abandoning her sneakers at the door. “Reiner…” Annie grumbled, pushing her long, blonde bangs out of her face as she looked down at him, “What did I say about pants?” She drifted between the high German of her classroom studies and the dialect that Reiner and Bertholdt clung to. 

“The home is a pants free zone… except when Annie Leonhardt comes over.” Reiner pushed himself off the couch, almost knocking over Bertholdt’s beer in the process. He shuffled into the bedroom, digging through the pile of dirty clothes to find a pair of ratty grey sweatpants. Even if Annie invoked the “no pants” clause, he was going to be comfortable. Just to spite Annie, he didn’t bother to find a shirt. 

When Reiner returned to the common space, Annie and Bertholdt were talking about his upcoming presentation while he went about the dinner preparations. She cast Reiner a glance that captured her annoyance with his shirtlessness, but he chose to ignore it. It was Annie’s loss if she couldn’t appreciate his chiseled physique. “So, Annie, tonight is your movie night. What did you rent from Scarecrow video?” 

Annie shrugged. “A horror movie.” 

“I knew it,” Bertholdt whispered. 

Reiner frowned slightly. “What movie is it?” Out of the corner of his eye he could see Bertholdt recede into his hoodie as he chopped the carrots. 

“I guess you’ll just have to wait and see,” Annie teased as she pulled one of Reiner’s stouts from the fridge and sat down in the armchair that had been aptly dubbed ‘Annie’s throne’. “What’s for dinner, Bertl?” 

“Err, nikujaga. It’s a kind of Japanese beef stew. I got the recipe from Mikasa,” Bertholdt explained, surprisingly flustered at such a simple question. It was a telltale sign that he’d not ever tried the recipe before, and despite all his success in the kitchen (and in other areas, too), Bertholdt had cripplingly low self-esteem. 

“I’m sure it will be delicious, Mikasa’s recipe for katsu was amazing,” Reiner responded quickly, fast to cut off any sarcastic retort that Annie would surely make, simultaneously offering Bertholdt his approval. Bertholdt and Mikasa, Annie’s first-year roommate, often exchanged traditional recipes. Annie simply stared at him coldly, but made no comment. “Let me know if you’d like my help.” 

Bertholdt gave a small shake of his head. “I… I think I got it,” he stuttered, and Reiner decided it would be best to let his boyfriend cook on his own. 

For a while the three remained in silence. While some of their other friends might find such an atmosphere lonely, it was welcome after a long week. He could tell that Annie was exhausted by the way she leaned back in her chair, her eyes shut. Unlike Bertholdt and Annie, Reiner did not have an excuse to be tired, but the quiet was welcome. They would awaken as soon as Bertholdt announced that dinner was ready. 

Reiner’s stomach was growling and his mouth was watering long before Bertholdt placed a bowl of steaming stew in his hands. He didn’t even wait for Annie to receive her portion. He quickly set to awkwardly fishing out the chunks of beef with his chopsticks; no amount of training from Mikasa and Eren would ever make him proficient. As his boyfriend sunk down on the couch next to him, Reiner ignored Annie’s spiteful glare and gave Bertholdt a kiss on the cheek in appreciation for the good meal. 

“So, Annie, what are we watching tonight?” Reiner asked again, feeling a strange trepidation at her response. 

Annie got up to fish the DVD out of her messenger bag. “I chose a supposed classic. Hope it’s terrifying.” She flashed them the cover of the case. It read Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho. 

“Black and white?” Reiner scoffed. “It’s from the 60’s, it can’t be that scary.” 

Annie gave him a look that said challenge accepted. Bertholdt scooted over on the couch to sit right next to Reiner; he had already pulled the hood of his sweatshirt over his head. Reiner finished the last of his dinner as the film began and he put an arm around Bertholdt, pulling him close. Annie came to sit next to them on the couch, though eventually she would come to regret it. 

Reiner knew just enough about Psycho to know about the infamous shower scene. He was certain that if Bertholdt saw that particular scene, he wouldn’t shower for a minimum of a month. Because Bertholdt had nefariously bad nervous sweats, he needed to shower daily, and Reiner wasn’t keen on sharing a bed with a Bertholdt that hadn’t showered in two days, let alone two weeks. So as the shower scene loomed ahead, Reiner planned a distraction for Bertholdt. It started simply by pulling Bertholdt closer, then dragging his boyfriend onto his lap. He ignored the warning glances from Annie as he leaned in, placing a small kiss on the curve of Bertl’s nose, before reaching up to make contact with Bertholdt’s lips. 

The woman was screaming as her attacker stabbed her in the shower, but he was too focused on the way his lips fit too well with Bertholdt’s, how much he loved the way Bertholdt’s sweaty hands gripped at his bare skin. “Twenty-eight… twenty-nine… thirty,” he heard Annie count, before a pillow whacked him square upside the head, effectively breaking up his kiss. 

Reiner stalwartly ignored Annie’s attacks, choosing instead to reach up Bertholdt’s hoodie with one hand, the other hand reaching out to grab the next pillow Annie lobbed at them. He caught it and flung it back in slight annoyance. 

“Don’t give her the pillows,” Bertholdt whispered to Reiner, a small, devilish, grin on his face. 

So he weathered the onslaught of Annie’s pillows, until she had run out of ammunition. Then he resumed distracting Bertholdt, almost longing now that Annie would go home and allow the two to be alone together. But instead Reiner found Bertholdt being knocked off his lap, his boyfriend almost crashing into the coffee table. 

“Fuck it, you two!” Annie hissed, clearly pissed at their antics. “I don’t care if you have Bertl in my way, I’ll beat you up!” 

“You’ll pay for that, Annie!” Reiner growled, suddenly finding himself in fisticuffs with Annie, who was president of the parkour club. She was tough as nails and she would take him down. 

The film forgotten, Bertholdt crawled behind the couch, watching with slightly terror-filled eyes as Reiner tried to trip up Annie. She was too fast for that, though, and nearly kicked a leg out from under him. He almost went falling into the coffee table, but managed to recover. Annie knew the layout of their apartment as well as they did, so there was no surprising her.  
“Don’t break anything! Reiner, don’t break the furniture. Annie, don’t break Reiner!” Bertholdt cried from behind the couch. 

“I’ll… try not to!” Reiner exclaimed through his grit teeth as he dodged a punch from Annie. Too late he realized that had been a feint, her hand was coming up and her leg was poised to kick—

The world went spinning for a brief moment before he crashed into the floor with a horrendously loud noise. He spent a few seconds sprawled on the floor, certain that Ymir, their downstairs neighbor, would give him shit when they went drinking tomorrow. More than that, he needed to recover his bearings. He’d been dealt some hard blows in football (what Americans called ‘soccer’) matches, but nothing compared to getting his ass whooped by Annie. 

She stood over him, her blue eyes blazing. “You two are nothing but trouble. Ever since you and Bertl got together, I’ve had to watch you snog. Cuddling is okay, but watching you stick your tongues down each other’s throats?” 

Bertholdt let out a small indignation from his hiding spot behind the couch. 

“You’re okay, Bertl, it’s mostly Reiner who instigates it,” Annie continued, before offering a hand to Reiner, still sprawled on the floor. He took her hand gratefully, his body aching as he sank back onto the couch.

Before Bertholdt could take his seat next to Reiner, Annie sat down in his spot; her message was clear. She wanted to watch the movie in her friends’ company. Resigned, Bertholdt sat on the other side, giving Reiner shy glances that made his heart flutter ever so slightly. Annie lifted an elbow as a clear warning: I will elbow you if you’re sneaky. 

It was impossible to resist the urge to cuddle with Bertholdt as a sweat broke out on his boyfriend’s olive skin and his face scrunched up with nervous concern. Reiner reached behind Annie, just to put a hand on Bertholdt’s cheek, but no sooner had he lifted his arms that Annie speared him in the ribs with her elbow. 

“Damn you!” Reiner hissed, feigning anger. He could understand Annie’s annoyance well enough, though. She had the tendency to be a loner, especially when around their other friends. It was only with Bertholdt and Reiner that she was the Annie that they knew, from their years together in the Saarland. And perhaps, when Reiner and Bertholdt were making out on the couch, that isolation that she felt around others came back in full force. 

He resolved to not make any more moves until the film was over, at which point Bertholdt was covered in nervous sweat. Horror movies were not particularly good for him, Reiner thought. Neither is wearing that baggy hoodie, Reiner added deviously. 

“This was a good one,” Annie remarked as she packed the DVD back into her messenger bag. 

“It was a sort of… psychological scary,” Bertholdt replied, still shaking slightly. “Like… that last shot, of the car being towed out of the swamp, and you know what they’ll find in the trunk…” Bertholdt shivered involuntarily.

“Better than Saw Six,” Reiner retorted as he pulled Bertholdt into his arms. “Next movie night, pick a foreign movie?”

“Preferably one in German?” Bertholdt added hopefully. 

“Then it’s not really foreign, is it, Bertl?” Annie replied, raising an eyebrow. “I suppose the lovebirds want me to leave their nest now. Go make your bed warm.” 

Reiner could feel his cheeks growing hot; he glanced at Bertholdt, who was a similar shade of scarlet. In a surprising act of courage, Bertholdt transfixed Annie with a slightly nervous stare and said: “How do you know we only do it in the bed?” 

Annie shook her head as she slung her bag over her shoulders. “Honestly, guys, I really don’t want to know. As long as it’s not in my throne. Good night. Great food as always, Bertl. There’s a reason I still come over.” 

After the door shut in her wake, Bertholdt went to lock the door. Reiner stood up from the couch, stretching his back. It would be even stiffer in the morning, but Reiner didn’t mind that at all. With a slightly mischievous grin on his face, Reiner moved to pull off that goddamned baggy purple hoodie.


	2. Stabway

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Commonly known to UW students as Stabway, the Safeway on 50th and Brooklyn is a dangerous place. But Bertholdt must go to the Stabway. Between the gang members, drug dealers, and the (recent) addition of security guards, Bertholdt's going to need someone to accompany him while grocery shopping.

Bertholdt stared at the open fridge, an ever-growing sense of despair stealing over him. While there was still an impressive supply of beer, the fridge was devoid of milk. Reiner must have used the last of it for his breakfast and failed to write Bertholdt a note before leaving for the airport. The football team had an away match that coming Friday, leaving Bertholdt alone in the apartment for a few days. 

Perhaps he could go without milk for the weekend. He dragged himself over to the pantry. With luck, they still had rice. There was indeed a half-full bag of Kokuho Rose, but much to his frustration, Reiner had also consumed the last of the bread, and there was not enough Nutella for his lunch tomorrow. Bertholdt knew too well that Germans had a weakness for Nutella, but the almost empty jar had a label of “ _for Bertl only <3_” in Annie’s lethal print. 

Sweating slightly, he measured out a cup of rice and placed it in the rice cooker. He set it to be ready in an hour. 

Bertholdt sank down onto the couch, reaching towards the floor for his hoodie. It was nowhere in sight, probably in the bedroom. However, his phone was sitting on the coffee table, and nervously he went through his text messages. There was one unopened from Reiner, reading, “ _getting onto the plane now. text you when I get to CA. <3_”. 

Feeling slight anger over the food situation, Bertholdt replied with “ _I guess you want me to die on your chunky peanut butter. please leave me a note the next time you eat all the food. safe travels_ ”.  

Like it or not, Bertholdt would have to brave Stabway.

The nearest grocery store was infamous for being unsafe, despite its name. The Safeway on 50th and Brooklyn had gained renown for being the place of many gang confrontations, culminating in a brutal stabbing their second year of college. Thus, there was the unspoken rule that no member of the 104th, under any circumstances, went into Stabway on their own. Normally Reiner was there to go with him… He felt his palms grow clammy with sweat. 

He picked up his phone again to send a message to Annie. It read, “ _hey annie, go to stabway with me?_ ” 

Seemingly within seconds, he got a reply of, “ _I live by u village. like fuck i’m walking to stabway when QFC is 10 minutes away from me_ ”.

Bertholdt frowned slightly, wishing that Annie could sense his desperation over text. “ _please? reiner gone to play football against berkeley. i need someone_ ”. 

Annie’s reply read, “ _ask ymir. she lives right under you. bertl, you are a chicken_.” 

Bertholdt sighed. It was true that Annie lived rather far from him, but she came over so often that the distance seemed to make no difference. Still, he could understand her reasoning. She didn’t need anything from Stabway, so there was no point in her walking all the way to Bertholdt’s apartment. Ymir could be an acceptable substitute… he quickly sent a message to her. “ _Ymir, this is Bertholdt. do you need anything from Stabway?_ ” He set his phone down on the couch, waiting nervously for her response. 

Within a few minutes his phone buzzed dully; he felt strangely nervous as he read the response. Ymir was very terse in her text messages: “ _No_ ”.

Within seconds, however, he got a second text. “ _Hey Bertholdt! This is Krista. Jean said he needed to get more food in medieval history today. You should ask him if he needs to go to Safeway!_ ” 

Bertholdt smiled slightly. While Ymir could be cold and apathetic, Krista was always more than kind. He found Jean’s contact in his cell phone and sent off an apprehensive message: “ _Hey Jean. This is Bertholdt. Do you need to get food at Stabway?_ ” 

Bertholdt waited thirteen very anxious minutes for a reply. “ _Yeah, I’ll go. Meet you in front in 10 minutes._ ” 

_“Ok. see you then_ ” Bertholdt texted in reply, before shoving his phone into the pocket of his jeans.

A sense of relief washed over Bertholdt. While he was not particularly good friends with Jean, he was grateful that someone was willing to accompany him to Stabway. Jean Kirschstein could be pretty intimidating when his face was drawn into a scowl, and Annie said that he had improved at disarming knives in a self defense class with Eren. He checked the pockets of his jeans to make sure he had his wallet and keys; he quickly went through the pantry and fridge one more time just to be certain that he didn’t need any other groceries to last him until Reiner returned. 

The walk from his apartment on  52nd and 15th to Stabway went by quickly. He could feel the back of his shirt stick to his skin from nervous sweat, his grocery list in one hand quickly becoming slightly damp. Reflexively wiping his hands on his stomach in an attempt to rid them of their sweatiness, Bertholdt worried that he would make a fool of himself, and Jean was unrelenting with his mocking. He could already hear Jean’s voice in his head, taunting him for dropping something. Bertholdt tensed as he walked up to Jean, casually leaning against the wall as though he went into this particular Safeway alone every day. 

“Hello, Jean,” Bertholdt said genially, giving the man a slight wave in an attempt to be friendly.  

“Nice shirt. You might want to rethink it next time you come here,” Jean remarked, scanning Bertholdt. 

Bertholdt looked down sheepishly at his chest— emblazoned across it was the word “Smartass” (really Samarium Argon Tantalum Sulphur Sulphur) with “UW Chemistry” printed in tiny letters underneath. “I forgot I was wearing it,” Bertholdt admitted. 

“You can’t be too surprised if someone beats you up, then,” Jean said with a dismissive shrug. “You’re pretty tall though, they’d have to be bold to take you on.” 

Bertholdt shook his head slightly. He had the advantage of height, but as Reiner often reminded him, he did not own it. Droplets of sweat stung his eyes as he stepped through the automatic door.

Deliberately he marched towards the bread, grabbing the cheapest wheat bread he could find at first glance. The sooner he was out of there, the better. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Jean pick out something from the chilled beers. Next was milk, which should have been easy to pull off the shelf if his hands hadn’t been trembling. He ended up almost whacking himself in the face with the glass door in his nervousness. He glanced over his shoulder— fortunately, Jean had his back turned. 

“I’m— I’m almost ready,” Bertholdt stuttered, turning to face Jean. He tried to keep his anxiety off his face. 

“Yeah, me too, Marco asked me to pick up strawberries though,” Jean replied, shifting his six-pack of beer from one hand to the other. He then took off towards the produce, Bertholdt following on his heels. So far everything had gone fine, and they’d escape from Stabway unscathed. 

“I… I just need to get Nutella,” Bertholdt explained as Jean returned with a carton of strawberries. 

“You eat that stuff?” Jean said, wrinkling his face in disgust. “It looks like shit in a jar.”

Bertholdt could feel his ears grow red. “Well, uh… I’m allergic to peanut butter, er, peanuts really, so…” He wished he was wearing his hoodie so he could sink into it. 

“I still wouldn’t eat that crap. There’s almond butter, you could just eat that,” Jean retorted, shaking his head. “Let’s hurry up and get out of here.” 

“Y-yes,” Bertholdt affirmed, his face still hot with embarrassment. Jean could be rude, he knew, but there was precious little he could do about his allergies and somehow Jean had shamed him  for having them anyway. With sweaty hands he reached for a jar of Nutella, but it slipped out of his grasp and fell to the floor. Bertholdt’s saving grace was that the jars were made of plastic, not glass, but it made enough noise for Jean to turn around. “Sorry,” Bertholdt preemptively apologized. 

Jean simply shrugged and made a beeline for the checkout. 

However, when they reached the checkout, their hopes of escaping Stabway without much drama were dashed. A cashier was being held at knifepoint by a hooded young man, with the demand that he have access to register. 

“A robbery?” Jean whispered to Bertholdt, his bad attitude forgotten. “I’ve yet to see one at Stabway.” 

Bertholdt attempted to rub his palms on his jeans, but with his food items, this proved a near impossible task. “I’ve… not seen one either. Do we do something?” 

“I don’t know! I wanted to come with you because your height is intimidating!” Jean hissed. 

“Er… Reiner always takes me here…” Bertholdt confessed. “This place terrifies me. I thought your attitude would keep everyone else away.” 

“Damn it!” Jean exclaimed loudly, before dropping all his groceries. He launched in to tackle the thug, hoping to disarm and incapacitate him. 

“Jean… you’re being foolish…” Bertholdt trailed off, cursing himself because he offer Jean any help as his friend took on a thug empty-handed. Reiner would have handled the situation far better, and comforted him afterwards. Jean would likely berate him for not attempting to help. 

Annie could have easily disarmed the thug and had him sprawled out on the floor. But Jean did not have Annie’s skills. Bertholdt desperately wanted to do something, but he could only watch as Jean grabbed the arm of the thug and pulled it away from the cashier. For a moment it looked as though Jean would be stabbed in the ribs, but somehow he got the knife out of the thug’s hands. 

Jean threw the knife away before forcing the thug to his knees with a well-aimed kick to the groin. A sharp elbow sent the thug to the floor; another customer had used the distraction to find duct tape. It was passed to Jean so that he could bind the thug at the wrists and ankles. Bertholdt was not entirely sure if that had been necessary, but he was still scared enough to be glad for the duct tape.

Jean’s heroics were almost instantaneously met with applause, as if Bertholdt needed more reasons to feel miserable about himself. He lacked the aggressiveness that characterized Reiner’s (and Jean’s) ability to gain control of the situation. All he could do was watch as others defended him. He found his chest almost sore with longing for Reiner. 

“A lot of good you are, Bertholdt,” Jean snarked as he picked up his discarded groceries. 

“I know…” Bertholdt muttered, wishing that he could sink through the floor and disappear. 

They had to wait some time for the SPD to arrive on the scene; Jean was obliged to give a statement and Bertholdt was also an obvious witness. Night had fallen by the time they were released from Stabway, and Bertholdt could not bring himself to say anything to Jean as they parted, not even a small  _Tschüss_. Jean turned left on Brooklyn to make his way back to his apartment next to I-5, and Bertholdt turned right to return to his apartment. Wearily, he placed the milk in the fridge, not caring too much if the bread and Nutella remained on the counter. 

The rice cooker had kindly kept his rice warm, but at this point he felt no hunger. Bertholdt simply flopped down on the bed he shared with his boyfriend, cuddling with a shirt that smelled especially of Reiner’s sandalwood soap. One thing was certain: he was not venturing into Stabway for a long time. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note on the German: Tschüss = a short way to say goodbye, akin to "bye" or "see you".


	3. Emergency Contacts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Reiner attends one of Ymir’s volleyball games and misses a couple of calls from the EMT because his boyfriend is in anaphylactic shock, and he’s Bertholdt’s emergency contact. Thank Heaven for Annie Leonhart.

The twin braids, purple and gold ribbons intertwined within them, bounced on Krista’s shoulders as she jumped up and down. Beside her Reiner was wearing a (fortunately) freshly laundered soccer jersey. His grumbly voice, thick with a German accent, filled her ears as Reiner cheered on Ymir. She leapt up to hit an almighty strike straight down onto the other team’s side. It ricocheted off the floor with a crack, so hard that Krista was half afraid that Ymir had deflated the ball. Krista joined the crowd in a massive cheer, while Ymir looked across the net, nonplussed. 

“Number four, Ymir, scores another point for the University of Washington Huskies!” a commentator boomed. With the current score 15 to 11, the match was looking to be in UW’s favor. 

This match was the second in an important game against their bitter rivals, the Washington State University Cougars. There weren’t many decked out in WSU’s maroon and silver, so that each time the opposing team scored, their cheers were pathetic compared to the all-out deafening shouts that Reiner led. 

Krista turned to Reiner, her companion bending down so that they could yell in each other’s ears. “Ymir is killing them!” she said jubilantly, feeling a swell of pride for her girlfriend. 

“Ha. I think she could have popped the volleyball with that last spike,” Reiner retorted with a grin. “She was holding back.” 

“All right, then. Ymir is killing them, but she could be killing andmutilating them,” Krista amended, watching the ball as the UW made a powerful serve. 

Reiner nodded, letting out a loud “ _Verdammt_!” as the Cougar setter nearly set the ball into the net, but recovered enough to let their player make a pass onto the Huskies’ side of the court. 

Krista returned to watching Ymir as she confidently made another strike, though the UW setter didn’t send the ball high enough for Ymir to make one of her absolutely vicious hits. 

“The WSU team is hesitant,” Reiner commented, a pleased smirk on his face. “They’re scared of our Ymir.” 

“As they should be!” Krista chirped, her braids bouncing in her excitement. “She owns that court—” 

Any comment that Krista was going to make was swiftly cut off as Ymir got another chance to slam the Mikasa volleyball down onto WSU’s side of the court. Her attacks were absolutely vicious, and it almost seemed as though the Cougars moved away from the ball as it smacked down onto the glossy hardwood. 

“THAT’S OUR YMIR!” Reiner belted. On the court, she turned her head to give him a small smirk and a wink, though it was barely noticeable from their student seating. As UW served again, Reiner leaned over to Krista. “If your girlfriend doesn’t watch it, she just might play for Team USA in the next Olympics.” 

Krista beamed Reiner a big smile. “I hope so! That would be amazing, to go to Rio and cheer her on… Do you really think she can do it?” 

“The trials aren’t for another year. She has time to really perfect her game. You don’t see many girls who make the other team run away from their spikes, now do you?” Reiner turned back to watch the game just as the Cougars made a messy play that somehow the Huskies couldn’t counter. The scoreboard changed from 16-11 to 16-12. 

“Damn,” Krista cursed under her breath, while Reiner gave the Huskies a loud, disappointed boo at their lackluster volley. “Come to think of it, though, Reiner— I’ve never come to one of your soccer— I mean, football matches! Ymir almost always goes, though.” 

“Despite looks, Bertl can be a pretty loud cheerleader,” Reiner said with a big grin. “It’s great to have Ymir come too, though. She usually just yells insults, though.” 

“She said that you’ll be playing for Germany’s World Cup team,” Krista replied, “So even if she sounds nasty, she really thinks highly of you.” 

“We’ll see…” Reiner’s face darkened for a moment, but the darkness quickly passed on. Krisa chose not to pry. “COME ON YMIR!” he yelled as Ymir charged up to the net, reaching ever so slightly over to bounce the Cougars’ set back onto the floor. 

“GO NUMBER FOUR!” Krista joined in, reveling in UW’s immanent win in this match. There was still another match to go, but with the first match won by UW, and Ymir playing as hard as she could, there was little doubt that the Huskies would destroy their rivals. 

—

It was a quiet evening in Annie’s studio. Normally on Fridays, she would make the trek over to Bertholdt’s and Reiner’s little one bedroom on 15th Avenue. She’d fill her growling stomach with Bertholdt’s excellent cooking, they’d sit down on the couch and watch a movie, invariably her boys would start kissing, Annie would slam Reiner to the floor… 

Instead, tonight Reiner was at a volleyball game cheering Ymir on, and surprisingly, Bertholdt had agreed to go to a chemistry department gathering. Annie sat on her bed, eating saltines in a hopeless attempt to convince her stomach that the wafers of salty flour were indeed food. Her only joy was that while her peers in German Literature were struggling their way through _Emilia Galotti_ , she breezed through it. One of the only benefits of being a native German speaker, she thought glumly. 

Beside her, her phone dully vibrated, and mechanically she picked it up with the hope that Bertholdt had ditched the gathering. It wasn’t a text, though, her phone was ringing; the number that flashed on the screen was unknown to her. Usually she simply waited for a strange number to leave a voicemail, but a tiny voice in the back of her head told her she needed to answer, so with slight annoyance she pressed the answer button and placed the phone to her ear. 

“Hello, this is EMT Chapel,” a female voice said, her tone serious and deliberate. “Is this Annie Leonhart?” 

“Yes,” Annie responded quickly, her heart hammering against her breastbone. Something very bad had happened, and Annie had a hunch what it was. There was only one reason an EMT would ever call her. 

“You are listed here as an emergency contact for Bertholdt Hoover. We attempted to contact Reiner Braun, but were unable to—”

“Please just tell me what has happened!” Annie snapped, only slightly aware of how badly she was shaking. She waited, feeling sick, for the EMT to say the words she knew she’d hear. 

“Bertholdt is in severe anaphylactic shock. We are rushing him to the UW Medical Center—” 

“I’ll be there. I need to find Reiner Braun.” She hung up the phone, realizing in retrospect how rude that was. Surely the EMT had experienced worse, though. Annie jammed the phone into the pocket of her jeans. Her wallet stuffed in her back pocket, she nabbed her keys off their hook and ran out the door. Her heart was racing. Annie felt full of adrenaline; she knew what she needed to do and it felt like if she went any slower, there would be dire consequences. 

She needed to find Reiner, that blockhead whose phone was on silent in a loud arena full of screaming people. Even though she was much closer to Hec Ed pavilion than the rest of their group of friends, the building felt miles away, and she could not hope to run fast enough. Damn her short legs, she thought angrily. 

Annie and Reiner were the closest Bertholdt had to family in the States. That’s why they were his emergency contacts, and they were carefully taught by Bertholdt in using the auto-injector that he always kept on his person; such knowledge on Reiner’s part had saved Bertholdt’s life before. But Bertholdt was so incredibly hyper-vigilant with his allergy that Annie’s mind was in a daze trying to figure out how her best friend was being rushed to the hospital. 

Her lungs were screaming and under her hoodie the sweat was making her cold, but she somehow managed to run the entire way to Hec Ed. She caught sight of the bouncers at the door to the pavilion. Realizing with a sickening lurch that the hard-asses at the door might not let her in without a ticket, she gathered up the remaining scraps of speed that she still had.  Annie made a desperate sprint into the pavilion, but her arm was still ensnared by a bouncer, almost ripping her favorite white sweatshirt. 

“What are you doing?” the man snapped. “You can’t get in without an entry pass.” 

_English. Speak English_ , Annie sternly reminded herself, before launching into an explanation. “My best friend’s being rushed to the hospital as we speak, and his boyfriend is inside. He deserves to know, y’know, that his loved one is dying? Unless you want to be the one who tells him that, you’ll let me go.” Annie punctuated that statement with a vicious glare. 

The bouncer immediately let her go. 

She stood stunned for a moment, struggling to remember where the student seating was located. She’d only been inside Hec Ed a few times, and her memory of the place was spotty. But she ran to her best guess at Reiner’s location, which, judging by the avid face paint and lack of opposing team’s colors, was correct. 

A few rows from the doorway she spotted Reiner. Nearly skipping steps she ran down to the row where he was sitting, shoving several people out of the way so she could tug hard at the sleeve of his jersey to get his attention. 

“REINER!” she shouted, which had the desired effect of pulling his focus away from Krista and onto her. She continued on. “Reiner, Bertholdt has gone into anaphylactic shock. I got a call from an EMT— a call you were supposed to get, stupid, except you were too busy shouting at the game to pay attention to your goddamned phone!” Behind Reiner, Krista’s expression was one of vague confusion and concern, and Annie realized that she’d been speaking in German. 

Initially Reiner’s mouth had been slightly agape, his eyebrows drawn up in an expression of surprise at the sight of Annie before him, dripping sweat. But now his face was blanched, his jaw clenched. “My God, I can’t believe this,” he stuttered, slipping back into his native language, “how could this happen, Bertholdt knows not to eat anything with peanuts in it, he’s always so careful, why wasn’t I there—“ 

“Reiner! We need to go. Fuck it, you weren’t there, and it was probably an accident— for fuck’s sake, it’s your boyfriend. We’ve got to hurry and make sure Bertholdt’s still alive.” Annie was about to make a futile attempt to pull Reiner away, but there was no need. 

Reiner turned to Krista, the confusion and concern on her face more intense. “I’m sorry, I need to go,” he said, the switch to English requiring some effort. “I’ll explain later.” 

Krista nodded solemnly. “I understand. I’m sure Ymir will, too. You two need to go and make sure that our Bertholdt is all right.” 

Reiner returned the nod, before turning towards the exit. “ _Gehen wir_ , Anne.” She followed suit, feeling the nervous anxiety flood her as they pushed through the horde of people. Even though her legs ached after her long run, she wanted to Reiner to walk faster. Her brain conjured up such terrible hypotheticals, as if she was not scared enough. 

What would greet her and Reiner when they finally reached the UW Medical Center? Her brain was suggesting to her that Bertholdt did not respond to the epinephrine in time, and that Bertl, her childhood friend, had suffocated or gone into cardiac arrest. She remembered the look on his face as he gasped for breath, back when they were children, and immediately felt horribly sick to her stomach. The thought of losing Bertholdt nearly made tears spring to her eyes. 

Free from Hec Ed pavilion, Annie broke into another sprint, Reiner nearly outpacing her even though he was not as fast. The medical center was in sight, and that gave Annie the second wind she needed to blow through the crosswalks and nearly run headlong into the emergency department’s waiting room. She managed to regain her composure as the automatic door slid open with a high-pitched squeal. It felt simultaneously eons ago that she had received the call from the EMT, and only seconds ago that she’d raced down Montlake Boulevard to reach Hec Ed. 

Reiner strode up to the receptionist, his face still deathly pale. “Do you need assistance?” the man asked politely, obviously too accustomed to both ill or injured patients and frightened loved ones. 

“Yes. I’m the emergency contact of Bertholdt Hoover,” Reiner barked, and by the mechanical pronunciation and a strong attempt to eradicate his accent, he’d clearly rehearsed these lines before. “I was told that he was being brought in for anaphylactic shock.” 

“Bertholdt Hoover…” the receptionist scanned the monitor placed obliquely to him. “Yes, we had Bertholdt Hoover brought in thirty minutes ago. We require you to fill out some paperwork, as he was incapacitated at the time.” 

Annie could see the artery pop out of Reiner’s neck. She simply took the clipboard from the receptionist and gently tugged Reiner towards a chair. “I’m… hoping that Bertl is just unconscious, but recovering,” Annie murmured, trying to keep Reiner’s mind away from darker thoughts. “Let’s fill out this paperwork, then we can go see him.” 

Silently Reiner began to fill out the required information, his shaking hands altering his strong print. Annie let him be, filling the quiet of the subdued waiting room with her own thoughts. She was startled almost out of her skin when Reiner started laughing next to her. 

“Is your boyfriend’s near death experience that funny?” Annie snapped in German, feeling distinctly irritated with how long Reiner was taking on that damn form. 

“It… just asked me, if Bertholdt is pregnant or may be pregnant, and I just thought, I hope not, I’ve only been fucking him in the ass—” 

“Shut it. Finish up that fucking form so we can see Bertl.” Annie gave Reiner a cold glare, though after a few minutes passed, she recognized that he was just as scared, just as amped up on anxiety and adrenaline as she was. The laughter had probably been his sole escape from the crushing fear, fear of what they would find on the other side of the wide, swinging door that led to the UW’s emergency department. 

“Done,” Reiner said after another small eternity. Her knees shaking slightly, Annie got up from the chair and followed Reiner back to the front desk. The receptionist accepted the clipboard, quickly entering the information into the computer. He then strode to a small room behind the desk, but emerged only a minute later. His words were music to Annie’s ears. 

“Bertholdt Hoover is awake. You’ve been cleared to visit him now; I’ll lead you to his room.” 

The fatigue in Annie’s legs tangibly dissipated and suddenly she could breathe properly again. “ _Gottseidank_ ,” she murmured, following the receptionist as though she had been aged a century or two. Even though she was relieved to see her friend, she braced herself for his appearance. 

As she had expected, Bertholdt was a mess. His face was horribly swollen, almost beyond recognition, and his olive skin seemed as pale as the sheets of the hospital bed. A painfully red rash  ran up the length of his right arm. But he was alive, and that was all that mattered. Reiner could barely contain his joy as he rushed up to Bertholdt. He wrapped his boyfriend in an embrace and showered Bertholdt’s mop of dark hair with kisses. 

“ _Gottseidank_ ,” Reiner murmured, burying his face in Bertholdt’s hair. “I was so scared, Annie got the call from the EMT, and she ran all the way from her studio to Hec Ed, I was stupid and couldn’t hear my phone over the crowd…” 

“It’s… it’s okay,” Bertholdt said hoarsely; breathing clearly still took a great deal of effort and concentration. “You’re here now.” He shut his eyes and melted into Reiner’s embrace. 

Annie pulled a chair over to the other side of Bertholdt’s bed, resting her chin on a hand. “Can you tell us what happened?” she asked gently. If Bertholdt was still in such a bad way, recounting the events leading up to his anaphylaxis may be too much to ask for. 

“I— I think so.” Bertholdt took a deep, wavering breath. “Simply… someone shook my hand.” He paused to take another breath. “Problem is… they must have just been eating something with peanuts in it— or maybe, peanuts themselves…” 

Reiner’s face knit itself into an expression of deep concern. He gently rubbed Bertholdt’s back, as if the gesture would aid in breathing. “I didn’t think your allergy was that bad… I keep peanut butter in the apartment, and I haven’t been careful in handling it. My God, Bertl, I could have killed you.” Annie glanced over at Reiner. His eyes were full of tears. “Don’t worry though, I’m throwing it out.” 

“Tha-Thank you. I didn’t… think allergy was so bad either, but… I felt really bad, then I couldn’t breathe— that’s when I… knew I had a reaction— I reached for my epipen, but…” Bertholdt paused to breathe as deeply as he could. “I lost coordination, I wheezed out for someone to call one-one-two… fortunately they knew what I meant.” Bertholdt gave Reiner a weak smile. 

“You’ll be all right now, though?” Annie said hopefully. Bertholdt was still in such a bad way that she felt pangs of intense worry. 

“The doctors seem to think so…  still, they said I’ll need to spend the night…” Bertholdt let out a  wavering sigh. “Hospitals are… so expensive in the States.” 

“Don’t worry about that,” Annie fired back. “You’ve set aside enough money for emergencies, and we have our student health insurance. I understand though… It’s not like it is back home.” Annie scanned Reiner. He was terrified, that much was plain, and in that terror she was afraid he’d do something rash. He couldn’t forget Bertholdt’s own fears in the face of his own. She sent him a warning look. 

“Bertholdt Hoover, I swear, I know I love you when you scare me like this,” Reiner said, his voice wavering. “If only I had a ring…” 

“Reiner. Don’t you dare.” She wished that she could step on his toes as an added warning. “Bertl just had a bunch of drugs pumped into his bloodstream. See that IV line? He still needs epinephrine because he’s not fully recovered. I know you’re better than his father. Don’t spring something like that on Bertholdt while he can’t say no.” 

Reiner’s eyes met Annie’s. “You’re right. This isn’t the place and time. Someday, though.” He immediately dropped the subject, electing to nuzzle Bertholdt gently. Annie let out a sigh of relief, though she was afraid the damage had been done. Bertholdt had an unfortunate history of being used, and she expected Reiner to understand what that entailed. 

“I’ll stay here overnight with you, Bertl,” Reiner said, running his fingers through Bertholdt’s hair. “I can’t leave you on your own.” 

“I won’t leave you, either. I’m staying overnight,” Annie affirmed, not entirely willing to let Bertholdt out of her sight until the rashes disappeared and the puffiness of his face had faded. 

“Annie— please get my hoodie?” Bertholdt whispered. Even though her legs were screaming at her, she did not have the heart to say no. 

“Of course I’ll get your hoodie, Bertl,” Annie promised.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note on the German: 
> 
> Verdammt = Damn it
> 
> Gehen wir = let’s go
> 
> Gottseidank = thank God


	4. Take It Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this installment, Reiner’s outburst at the hospital reminds Bertholdt of his emotionally manipulative and verbally abusive father. Bertholdt is no longer sure whether he can trust Reiner as he once did.

Early the next morning, Bertholdt was permitted to leave the hospital. He felt incredibly groggy and vaguely ill from all the medication that had gone into him the previous evening. The nurse finally removed the IV lines and allowed him to dress himself. In addition to his sweatshirt, Bertholdt should have asked for a change of clothes from Annie, he realized as he pulled his hoodie over his head, feeling dirty in his day-old clothing. A shower was in order once he made it back to his apartment. The nurse offered to cut the hospital wristband off, but Bertholdt insisted on keeping it as a small memento. 

Annie and Reiner were waiting in the hallway. Though they had spent the night at the hospital with him, they seemed far more alert and awake. Unlike Bertholdt, they had avoided massive doses of Benadryl and epinephrine, and the nurse had not been hell-bent on waking them up every two hours. Bertholdt knew that the nurse was operating by proper safety procedures; nevertheless, he felt rather grumpy and intended to crash on his own bed the minute he arrived home. 

Wordlessly they walked through the sterile white hallways, Bertholdt’s feet feeling sluggish and unresponsive. Fortunately, there was a bus line that ran from the UW Medical Center along 15th Avenue, sparing him the ordeal of walking to his apartment. Annie had kindly fetched his bike from the chemistry building the previous evening, relieving him of his worry that his bike would be stolen if left out overnight. He stood beside Reiner as his boyfriend cleared their bill at the front desk, resting his head tiredly on Reiner’s shoulder.  Finally, he was free to go home. 

Reiner grumbled something under his breath about the cost of health care in the States, but Bertholdt didn’t quite catch what was said. He simply followed Annie and Reiner to the bus stop. On Saturday mornings, busses made fewer stops, and it was a slow twenty minutes in the chilly October air, before the 48 bus pulled up. It was completely empty save for the three of them. 

Bertholdt fumbled in his hoodie for his Husky card, feeling his cheeks grow slightly red as he finally pulled it out of his pocket and tapped it against the reader. “Sorry,” he muttered to the driver, before taking a seat between Annie and Reiner. He rested his head against Reiner’s shoulder, his eyelids feeling impossibly heavy.

“Are you feeling all right, Bertl?” Annie asked softly, looking out the window as the bus rolled down Pacific street. 

“Yeah, I feel okay… just very tired,” he murmured. “The drugs that they put you on after an allergic reaction— they make you feel groggy.” 

Reiner reached to take Bertholdt’s hand. “We’ll be home in no time. You’ll be able to sleep as long as you need.” 

“Not too long, though… I have homework to do,” Bertholdt said, newfound worry causing his palms to grow slightly clammy. 

“Bertl, you can easily prove that you were at the hospital overnight. Your professors can give you an extension if you need it,” Annie reminded him, reaching up to pull the cord so that the driver would know to stop at the next intersection. A dull _ping_ resounded through the bus. 

Bertholdt would have protested that he did not need an extension, but his weariness won out. The bus lurched to a stop and the doors slid open with a lethargic hiss. “Let’s go, Bertl,” Reiner said gently, pulling Bertholdt to his feet. 

It was a very short walk from the bus stop to their apartment. The cheery red roof of the complex shined weakly in the cloudy morning light, and Reiner ushered Bertholdt up the stairs, as if he was likely to trip and fall. Reiner fumbled for his keys, finally extracting them to unlock their equally cheery red door. Bertholdt half-walked, half-stumbled into his apartment, wanting nothing more than to fall asleep in his own bed. 

“Do you want me to stay?” Annie asked hesitantly, remaining near the door. 

“You should go home and sleep,” Reiner suggested, sinking down onto the couch. “We didn’t get much rest last night trying to balance upright in a chair.” 

“I feel fine,” Annie said with a shrug. 

“You don’t even want to change clothes?” Reiner asked, raising an eyebrow. 

Annie turned to face Bertholdt. “Bertl, do you want me to stay?” 

“I… I agree with Reiner,” Bertholdt said hesitantly. “You’ve done more than enough, Annie. You were the one able to take the EMT’s call, you ran all the way there, you got me my hoodie, you spent the night with me. I… can’t begin to say how much that means to me.” Bertholdt enveloped her in an awkward hug, which Annie reciprocated. 

“I’ll see you two later then. Get more rest, Bertl, and don’t worry about your chemistry homework. Your health comes first.” Annie turned towards the door, giving Reiner and Bertholdt one of her rare smiles as she left. 

Without another word, Bertholdt trudged to the bedroom he shared with Reiner. He flopped on the bed, curled up with his pillow, and let himself sleep off his grogginess. 

—

It had been 7:00 in the morning when Bertholdt had been released from the hospital. As he blinked back into consciousness, the clock on Reiner’s nightstand read _11:55._ He wanted to fall back asleep, but something more pressing was keeping him from dozing off again. Bertholdt lay awake in the darkness of the bedroom, staring blankly at the white ceiling. 

Bertholdt hadn’t been completely alert through any of the conversation that occurred last night, and his recollections came through a thick haze of drug-induced amnesia. He could remember fairly clearly the events leading up to the visit now (it had been a professor who’d shaken his hand with peanut oil still on his palms). There was something else, gnawing at his gut, that he could barely remember. 

 _Bertholdt Hoover, I swear, I know I love you when you scare me like this. If only I had a ring…_  

Bertholdt suddenly felt sick to his stomach. At the time, he’d been too dazed and confused from the medication to react. Reiner had said that, and Annie had stopped Reiner from saying anything more. He rolled onto his side, curling up into a ball as he hugged his pillow. He shut his eyes in a futile attempt to keep the memories at bay, memories of a man he hadn’t seen in several years. 

Bertholdt’s heart was racing, the room was spinning around him, and it was hard to breathe— if he hadn’t known better, he would have stabbed the EpiPen, still in his pocket, into his thigh. But this wasn’t an allergic reaction, this was a panic attack. Normally he would seek out Reiner and curl up in the man’s embrace until his fear was gone. That was no longer a possibility.

Reiner was going to use him, just as his father had used him and his mother. Why else would Reiner have chosen a moment when Bertholdt could not have possibly given his knowing consent? Bertholdt was always going to be the means to another’s end. Yet, even knowing that he would always be used by others, Bertholdt had never expected to be the means to Reiner’s ends. His heart ached with pain, as though the past four years with Reiner, the past four wonderful years, were tarnished with a few words.

 _Thank God for Annie_ , Bertholdt thought as he pulled the hood of his sweatshirt up over his head. She had saved him from consenting to marriage under the influence of the drugs. _My father would do a thing like that_ , Bertholdt thought angrily, his stomach tying itself into knots. _My father would bide his time and wait until his target was vulnerable. Just like Reiner did. Reiner saw me full of drugs and knew that he’d never get a better opportunity._  

He finally drifted into an irritated nightmare of a doze, waking again when the angry red numbers of Reiner’s clock glared a _2:13_. There was no hope of falling asleep again, and his stomach was growling hungrily. Apprehensively Bertholdt got up and made his way to the kitchen, casting a nervous glance at Reiner, sprawled out on the couch. 

“Bertl… you awake?” Reiner asked, his words obscured by a yawn. 

“Yes, Reiner, I’m awake,” Bertholdt replied, pulling a slice of bread out of the pantry and slathering some Nutella upon it. “I got hungry.” 

“You haven’t eaten a proper meal in almost twenty-four hours,” Reiner reminded him, never leaving the couch. “You should eat more than just Nutella.” 

“The… medication gave me a bit of an upset stomach. This is as much as I can handle.” Bertholdt stuffed the piece of bread into his mouth, almost gagging on it. In Reiner’s presence he felt nervous. One of the few safe places in his life was gone. 

Reiner got up from the couch, before wrapping his arms around Bertholdt in an embrace. He felt every muscle in his body involuntarily stiffen in preparation to flee. Reiner sensed this and let go of Bertholdt, instead choosing to inspect his face. “I'm so glad you're doing better now. I know it takes you a few days to get back to your usual self.” 

Bertholdt longed to lean into Reiner’s chest. That place was no longer safe, he reminded himself sternly. “Now I have to worry about people touching me…” 

“Be wary of what’s being served at gatherings from now on… if peanuts, then perhaps you should decline handshakes and other contact,” Reiner suggested. He studied Bertholdt’s face for a long time. “God, Bertl, I’m so glad that you’re alive, and I’m sorry.” 

Bertholdt breathed in sharply. Was Reiner apologizing for his behavior last night? Unsure, he asked, “sorry for what?” 

Reiner looked away for an instant. “I’m sorry, that you couldn’t rely on me. Annie was the one who got the EMT call— I was too distracted by Ymir’s game. I missed both calls.” 

Bertholdt was unsure how to read Reiner’s apology. Reiner must have assumed that Bertholdt did not remember his attempt at a proposal. But he did remember it, and if Reiner was not willing to admit it, then… it must reveal something about Reiner’s personality, something that Bertholdt wished he had never seen. “It is all right, Reiner,” Bertholdt finally said, pulling away from his boyfriend. “I’m going to begin studying. I… don’t want to beg for an extension.” With that, Bertholdt sunk down in Annie’s chair, his pile of textbooks on the floor. 

“You’re studying already, and you’re still wearing your hospital bracelet,” Reiner said with a shake of his head. “Let me know if you need anything. You should take it easy.” 

 _I need you to take it back_ , Bertholdt thought as he paged through his physical chemistry textbook. _I need you tell me that you weren’t going to propose to me while I was compromised. I need you to not use me as my father did._


	5. Upon First Known Ingestion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Annie has a flashback to her years in elementary school and the first time she witnessed Bertholdt go into anaphylactic shock. Her flashback conveniently offers insight into what the German nationals were like as children.

Annie spotted Bertholdt under a tree at their recess, his knees tucked up to his chest and his expression forlorn. She grabbed onto Reiner’s hand and dragged him towards their quiet friend. It made Annie’s little heart hurt whenever she saw him sitting alone. “Bertl!” she exclaimed as she got closer, Reiner grumbling something about how he wanted to eat his lunch.

Bertholdt looked up from his feet, his face turning a little red. “Hallo,” he whispered, barely audible. To Annie, that small greeting was enough of a victory; Bertholdt was selectively mute and had great difficulties speaking. 

“Hey, Bertl. May we eat lunch with you?” Annie asked, making a conscious effort to ask questions that could be answered with a shake of the head. While Bertholdt had become much better at speaking with her and Reiner, she tried to offer him many opportunities to communicate nonverbally.  

Bertholdt nodded, before adding a faint, “ _Ja_.” 

Reiner beamed Bertholdt one of his large smiles, sinking down onto the grass on the other side of their friend. He began chomping down on the apple in his lunchbox; Annie began eating the bunch of red grapes that her father had packed. She personally hated the red ones. Why couldn’t her father get green grapes, like she always asked? 

Something was amiss, but Reiner vocalized it before she ever noticed exactly what was wrong. “Bertl, did you eat your lunch already?” 

Bertholdt shook his head. “ _Nein._ ” He rested his head on his arms as he stared vacantly at the swing set. 

“We can play on the swings later,” Annie offered, pushing her blonde bangs out of her eyes. Feeling concern gnawing at her stomach, she asked, “Bertl… do you have a lunch today?”

Bertholdt shook his head again. “ _Mutti_ forgot.” 

As much as Annie would revel in Bertholdt saying more than just _ja_ or _nein_ , she felt uncontrollable rage filling her small body. Bertholdt often went without lunches. His mom, though seeming to be a kind woman from Annie’s few interactions with her, was clearly forgetful at best and intentionally neglectful at worst. Annie often thought of going to the teacher and explaining Bertholdt’s situation for him, but sometimes the teacher was less than understanding of Bertholdt’s inability to speak. Annie did not want to draw that sort of attention to Bertholdt, for fear that he’d stop talking to her entirely. 

But Reiner seemed intent on telling someone in charge about Bertholdt’s frequent missing lunches. He put the peanut butter and jelly sandwich back in his lunch box and stood up abruptly, his head moving back and forth as he sought out their teacher. “This isn’t okay,” Reiner said firmly. “Bertl, someone needs to tell your mom that she can’t just forget about lunch, okay? I know you can’t say anything to Frau Schumann, so I’ll say it for you.” 

“Reiner, sit back down,” Annie said, scolding him slightly. “Let’s make sure Bertl has something to eat, then we’ll find the teacher. Got it?” 

“Got it,” Reiner grumbled, sitting down again. “What do you want for lunch?” 

Bertholdt shook his head, shifting slightly away from Reiner. “I’m okay.” 

“You need to eat,” Annie said sternly. “If you don’t eat, you’re not going to feel well later. We have plenty of food to share with you, Bertl, so don’t feel like you’re stealing from us.” 

“Okay,” Bertholdt mumbled, staring down at his feet. 

“Here, eat half of my sandwich,” Reiner said in an almost commanding tone. Wordlessly Bertholdt took the offered peanut butter and jelly sandwich, biting into it aggressively. 

Annie could tell that Bertholdt had been very hungry. “You can have the rest of my grapes, too. I hate the red ones.” She turned to offer the awful grapes to her friend.

She would not get a reply, not even a nonverbal one. “Bertl!” she yelled, panic flooding her. Bertholdt’s face was swelling up, especially around his eyes, so much that he could not open them. He alternated between wheezing and coughing, his skin flushed as he struggled to breathe. “Reiner, we need to do something!” Annie yelled, feeling almost frozen in terror. 

Reiner was crying, his knuckles white as he clutched Bertholdt’s arm. He looked as terrified as Annie felt. “What’s wrong with him?” Reiner yelled back, fear making his voice waver. 

“I don’t know!” Annie cried, standing up so quickly she saw black spots in her vision. “Stay with Bertl, I’ll go find the teacher,” she commanded as calmly as she could, before tearing across the lawn as quickly as her short legs would carry her. 

Between Annie’s yelling and Reiner’s crying, their teacher had already been alerted to the emergency. Annie met the teacher half-way, almost running into the woman at a full sprint. Unable to stave away tears, Annie wailed, “please, Frau Schumann, something’s very wrong with Bertholdt! He can’t breathe and his face is all swollen!” 

Annie found herself following her teacher as the woman marched over to the tree. Bertholdt’s skin seemed bluish when Annie returned, taking in short, gasping breaths. Reiner was futilely trying to wipe his tears away as their teacher approached. “He’s having a bad allergic reaction,” their teacher assessed, seeming calm though Annie could see her fear in the tightness of her face. “We’ll need to make an emergency call.” 

Without another word, their teacher stooped down to picked Bertholdt up off the grass, before she carried him off towards the school building. Reiner and Annie followed her at a run, trying to keep up with her. Reiner held the door open for their teacher, his hands shaking. “Please be okay,” Annie heard him mutter as she walked through the door. 

Their teacher took Bertholdt to the school nurse, placing him on one of the cots before picking up the telephone and dialing 1-1-2. Annie eavesdropped from the doorway, but her teacher was speaking in such hushed tones with the operator that she did not get much out of it. She did catch the word “anaphylaxis”, though. It was a scary word, she decided as she cast another glance at Bertholdt, gasping desperately for breath. She felt her eyes go wide as the nurse stabbed something— it looked like a needle— into Bertholdt’s leg. She let out an involuntary shriek, clapping her hand over her mouth. 

The phone conversation finished, their teacher turned to stare at Annie and Reiner. “Did Bertholdt tell you that he had any allergies? You’re the only ones that boy will speak to.” 

Reiner shook his head, his face blanched. “No… he wouldn’t tell us something like that unless we asked…” 

“Did he eat anything that might have triggered the reaction?” their teacher asked sternly. 

“Yes!” Reiner replied, tears springing to his hazel eyes again. “I… I gave him some of my peanut butter and jelly sandwich.” 

“Peanut allergies are fairly common,” the nurse affirmed. Annie dared to take another peek into the nurse’s office. The swelling wasn’t getting worse, but Bertholdt’s eyes were still swollen shut and he wheezed as though every breath was a battle. Every breath was a battle, Annie realized, her blood going cold. 

“He won’t die, will he?” Annie asked desperately. Judging by the glare that her teacher gave her, this was clearly the wrong thing to say. 

“You two. Can you return to your afternoon class?” their teacher asked them sternly. 

Annie glanced over at Reiner as he shook his head, staring down at his feet. “I’m scared,” he confessed. He was more than scared. Annie could tell by the way Reiner shook uncontrollably and by the glistening of tears in his eyes. 

She shook her head as well. “I’d like to go home,” she admitted. She was trying to keep composure like her father would tell her to, but she needed to return home so she could cry into her pillow. 

“I’ll leave the care of the boy to you,” their teacher said to the nurse, before escorting Annie and Reiner to the school secretary. Within minutes both their parents had been contacted and told to pick them up from school, but not before Annie heard sirens blaring and the sound of assertive voices in the hallway, giving commands in medical gobbledygook. 

“Bertl will be okay, Reiner,” Annie said to her friend, as much to assure herself as it was to assure him. Even so, she could not help but feel terrified as the sirens faded away again, taking Bertholdt with them. 

—

“We shouldn’t be walking alone,” Annie scolded Reiner as they walked towards the Hoover home. The windows had been dark until an hour ago. Reiner had been watching from his kitchen window, and he’d found Annie after he had confirmation that Bertholdt’s mother was home. Without alerting their parents, they snuck out together to visit the Hoover home in the hopes that Bertholdt was back from the hospital. 

“You were the one who decided that we should go without telling our parents,” Reiner retorted. 

“I said I wasn’t going to tell my dad, because my dad lets me walk alone in the neighborhood,” Annie replied, “your parents might care. I never said you shouldn’t tell your parents.” 

Reiner rolled his eyes. 

Annie doubled her pace, feeling distinctly worried that Frau Hoover had returned home without her son. Reiner huffed as he tried to keep up. Before long, they were at the front door of the Hoover house, and Reiner apprehensively knocked on the door. They had half a mind to turn around and go home, but finally Bertholdt’s mother answered the door.

“You two are here to ask about Bertholdt?” she asked, her voice exposing her exhaustion as badly as the dark circles under her eyes. 

Annie gave a firm nod. Reiner stared at his feet, unusually quiet. 

“We just got back from the hospital. He has a very severe peanut allergy; we never knew about it until now,” Bertholdt’s mother explained. “Apparently he ingested some peanut butter yesterday at school. I did hear that you two were the ones to alert the teacher. For that, I’m very grateful. If he’d been alone, he might have died.” 

Annie felt like yelling that if Bertholdt’s mother actually remembered to feed him, like a good parent would, Bertholdt would not have had a reaction in the first place. But something about the woman seemed different, though Annie could not hope to articulate what it was. 

“Can we see him?” Reiner asked, his nerves showing in the way his voice wavered. 

“Of course. He may be asleep though. It was a rough night for him at the hospital,” Bertholdt’s mother replied. “They had to wake him every two hours, just to be safe. He could barely keep his eyes open on the drive back.” With that, Bertholdt’s mother held the door open for them. 

Annie and Reiner rushed in, kicking off their shoes in the entryway before scrambling up the carpeted stairs. They burst into Bertholdt’s room to find him asleep, though he snapped awake at the sound of them entering. “Nana?” he said sleepily. “Reiner?” 

“Bertl!” they exclaimed in unison, jumping up onto his bed and enveloping him in a large hug. 

Bertholdt’s face was bright red as they pulled away. “You’re looking a lot better!” Annie said, “Your face was really badly swollen yesterday. You didn’t even look like you. I hated it.” 

“And you don’t have to wheeze anymore!” Reiner added. “It was scary. It sounded like you couldn’t breathe.” 

“I couldn’t breathe…” Bertholdt said softly, so soft that Annie nearly did not hear him. 

“But you’re all better now?” Annie asked, a smile breaking upon her face. 

Bertholdt gave a firm nod. “Can’t… ever eat peanuts again, though.” 

Annie wrapped her friend in another hug. “I’m just so happy you’re alive, Bertl!” she exclaimed, feeling tears spring to her eyes again. 

Reiner remained sullen. He grabbed Bertholdt’s hand, and as solemnly as his eight-year old voice could muster, he said, “Bertl… I’m really, really sorry that I fed you the peanut butter yesterday. If I hadn’t, you wouldn’t have gone to the hospital. Your mother said you could have died...” He wiped the tears out of his eyes with the back of his hand. 

Annie could tell that Bertholdt desperately wanted to say something, but was struggling to make the words come out. “Do you blame Reiner for what happened?” Annie asked, hoping that the simple yes-or-no question would be something Bertholdt could answer. 

Much to her relief, Bertholdt shook his head. “No… y-you just w-wanted to give me lunch,” he stuttered. 

“We couldn't know this would happen,” Annie added. “It was completely an accident. Don’t blame yourself, Reiner.” 

Bertholdt yawned, clearly exhausted from his hospital stay. “Do you want to sleep?” Reiner asked. Bertholdt gave a small nod in reply. 

Wordlessly Annie pulled Reiner off the bed, but not before they gave their friend one more hug. With the assurance that their friend was alive and all right, they returned to their homes. And ever after that day, Bertholdt came to school every day with his own lunch. Annie wanted to think that Frau Hoover was starting to take care of her son. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note on the German
> 
> Mutti = diminutive of “mother”, like mom or mommy


	6. Sunday Morning Stomach Flu

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lil' Jeanmarco piece. Jean is ill and Marco is a saint.

Marco peeked into their bedroom, feeling slightly concerned. It was late on a Sunday morning, and if Jean didn’t get started on his homework soon, he’d never finish in time. Despite their usual habit, their German friends had bailed on drinking yesterday evening, and with them gone, the 104th was out of sorts. Everyone had a drink or two and then they glumly disbanded and returned home for a quiet evening in. 

“Jean?” Marco asked softly. “You need to get up now. You have your homework to do. You don’t do your homework, you won’t get any sleep tonight. No sleep tonight and you’ll be cranky tomorrow. You don’t want to be cranky tomorrow, do you?” 

He got a groan in response. First strike.

“Come on. There’s still some breakfast left over!” Marco added cheerfully. “You’ll have some eggs and orange juice and you’ll feel bright and ready to tackle some engineering.” 

“Don’t want eggs,” Jean grumbled into his pillow. 

Second strike. “Seriously, Jean. Get up now and get your work done.” Marco turned on the light and moved to pull the sheets off of Jean, but even with his face stuffed in the pillow, Jean did not look well. Marco paused at the foot of the bed, softening his voice. “Jean, are you feeling all right?” 

“No” was the muffled response. 

“Headache? Cold? Stomach ache?” Marco asked, hoping for an articulate response so he could figure out a way to help. 

“Stomach hurts.” Jean turned over, stuffing his head under the pillow. 

Marco bit his lip slightly. “I’ll try and find some soda. Ginger ale usually helps, I think.” With that, he turned to leave the bedroom. He was fairly certain that they had no soda in their apartment, and he was about to put his shoes on and find his keys when he heard a wavering “Marco?” coming from Jean’s room. 

Marco rushed back to find Jean sprawled on the floor, his face in the carpet. “I feel sick, Marco,” Jean groaned. He looked green. 

“Do I need to help you get to the bathroom?” Marco fretted. “Can you not walk on your own?” 

“I don’t think so,” Jean mumbled, “I can hardly walk.” 

Gingerly, Marco pulled Jean to his feet, grunting with the effort. Jean was like a dead weight, but eventually he managed to get Jean to sling an arm around his shoulder. He allowed his boyfriend to lean on him heavily as he dragged Jean to the bathroom. Marco struggled to keep Jean from smacking his head as he half-kneeled, half-fell in front of the toilet. He held Jean upright as Jean dry heaved, his face drawn up in concern. 

“You need to rinse your mouth out,” Marco reminded Jean when he was done, rubbing Jean’s tuft of ashen grey hair to soothe him. 

Jean just groaned, but managed to rinse his mouth out with the Listerine on the counter. Marco then helped Jean back into bed, feeling slightly bad about being so rude earlier and trying to force Jean out of bed. Jean was shivering badly, so Marco tucked him in back under his covers. Feeling Jean’s forehead, it was clear that he was feverish. 

“Jean… do you want me to type up any emails for you and ask if you can get an extension?” Marco asked from the doorway. “You’re not in any condition to try and do homework.” 

“Yeah… should be open on my laptop,” Jean said, his eyes shut. 

Marco was sure to put a trash can by Jean’s bedside, in case he needed it while Marco ran some quick errands. He then sat down at Jean’s computer, frowning slightly as he awoke it, only to find that Jean had logged out. Fortunately, Marco could guess at the password, and got it right on the second try. He hoped that Jean’s professors would be kind and allow Jean to turn it in a day late; he had the hunch that Jean had the flu, in which case, he shouldn’t be doing anything other than recuperating. 

There was the nasty business of making a trip up to the Stabway, though, to pick up ginger ale and electrolytes, and maybe some fever reducer— he really needed to be better at stocking their medicine drawer. He pulled out his phone, and sent a quick message to Eren, asking if he’d be willing to accompany him to Stabway.


	7. Damage Control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A direct sequel to “Take It Back”, Reiner finally realizes that he’s upset Bertholdt. Annie offers him some guidance in recognizing his mistakes and organizing his apology, but not without some petty theft.

 

Reiner had felt that something was wrong with Bertholdt, and his behavior this evening had confirmed that suspicion. All week, Bertholdt had behaved oddly. He showed no desire to cook, instead choosing to live off a diet of rice and bread with Nutella. Whenever Reiner addressed him, Bertholdt immediately began playing with the hospital bracelet, still on his right wrist. Initially Reiner thought that Bertholdt’s brush with death had been troubling him, and that he still wore the bracelet had only solidified that thought. 

But when Annie had left and they’d retired to bed, Bertholdt had insisted that he wanted to sleep on the couch. On an average Friday, the twain retired to their room, where they would spoon, and kiss, and pull off whatever clothes were remaining. That Bertholdt chose not to sleep by Reiner’s side was an obvious sign that Bertholdt did not trust Reiner. Reflecting back, Bertholdt had seemed uncomfortable sharing their bed all week; Bertholdt had stiffened or trembled whenever Reiner made any attempt at giving his boyfriend physical affection. 

It felt as though Annie had smacked him across the face with one of her powerful backhanded hits—whatever anxiety Bertholdt was feeling, it was directed at Reiner. Something had come between him and the love of his life, and for the second Friday in a row, Reiner felt absolutely terrified. 

His heart sick, Reiner strode into the bedroom he should be sharing with Bertholdt. Was it possible? He admitted to himself that he had not been careful in hiding it away, and with shaking hands, Reiner rustled through his sock drawer. Nothing. 

_This must be what it feels like to be Bertl_ , Reiner thought in a panicked haze. Did he burst back into the common space and confront Bertholdt about what he’d found in Reiner’s sock drawer? He found himself seeking out Annie’s phone number, and with clumsy fingers, he typed a message to her. 

“ _Annie, I’m scared. Bertl’s been acting off all week. I think he found the wedding ring I hid in my sock drawer.”_

Within seconds, he got a response. “ _Why? Is it missing?”_

“ _Yes. I think he took it and has been too scared to confront me_.” 

“ _No, he didn’t take it. I did. If you want it back, you’ll come to my studio_.” 

Reiner bit his tongue to keep himself from cursing aloud and waking Bertholdt. He was furious with Annie. He knew too well that she could be rude, and a manipulative jerk, but he never expected her to snoop through his things or steal from him. Fuming, he pulled on a jacket and slipped his feet into his loafers. He sent one last text off to Annie. “ _Fuck you. I’ll be there in 20 minutes_.” 

He took one last peek into the apartment to make sure Bertholdt was still asleep before he slipped out and turned the key in the lock. The night was brisk, but still early— frat boys and sorority girls were just beginning to come out of the woodwork, either hitting up the bars or throwing parties in their houses. He could hear dull techno music thudding from three blocks away, as if he needed a headache to accompany his nausea and his heartache. 

The cold late-October wind cut through Reiner as he walked down the 45th Avenue viaduct, the lights of U Village twinkling at him, a strong contrast to the yawning, black expanse of Lake Washington. It would have been a breathtaking sight, if Reiner had been able to appreciate it. Instead he found himself completely preoccupied with the conversation that awaited him in Annie’s studio. 

She was waiting for him in the courtyard outside the apartment building, a small, velvet-covered black box in her hand. “Do you want this back?” she asked, scanning Reiner with her cold blue eyes. 

“Yes. Why the fuck did you take it?” Reiner growled, the anger he felt at Annie’s theft returning to the surface. 

“I took it because I knew if I had it, you’d confront me,” Annie replied simply. “I wanted to know how serious you are.” 

“I bought an wedding band on my already very tight budget, after having paid an insane amount for Benadryl, epinephrine, and a hospital bed.” Reiner crossed his arms. “I’m pretty serious.” 

“You sure you didn’t just do it because you were scared?” Annie sat down on a bench. Reiner gave in and sat down next to her. 

“I… I’ve been thinking about getting married to Bertholdt for a while,” Reiner confessed. “We’ve dated for a long time. Two years in the _Gymnasium_. Another two years of college. This is our fifth year together, and I—“ 

“It’s a big commitment, Reiner,” Annie reminded him sternly. 

“You don’t need to tell me,” Reiner snapped back. “I know that already. But it’s a commitment I’m ready to make.” 

“Why’d you buy the ring after Bertholdt’s hospital visit, if you’ve been set on this for so long?” Annie gave him a pointed stare. She was asking difficult questions, and Reiner could not help but wonder if Bertholdt put her up to interrogating him. “Are you sure it wasn’t something you did in the heat of the moment?” 

“I never knew that Bertholdt was so deathly allergic. With that revelation, I knew I needed to say my vows. I have to protect him for the rest of our lives,” Reiner explained, unable to look Annie in the eye. He stared down his brown loafers instead. “I can’t really explain why I knew. Maybe I am just scared. But… It’s not like Bertholdt and I would get married right away. I’m not even sure if we could get married here in the States. But I want to make that commitment. If I still can, that is.” The image of Bertholdt, curled up on the couch and all alone, snuck back into his mind. Reiner put his head in his hands, feeling incredible pain at the prospect of losing Bertholdt’s love. 

“You made a mistake in saying anything about getting married at the hospital,” Annie confirmed, leaning back to look up at the cloudy night sky. 

“How? It wasn’t even a proposal.” Reiner shot Annie a confused glance. 

“No, it wasn’t. Were you going to propose?” Annie shot him a scrutinizing look in return. 

“I… don’t know. I was just so happy to see him alive,” Reiner answered. “I probably wouldn’t have really proposed, though. As I said in the hospital, I didn’t have a ring or anything to make it official.” 

Annie sighed softly. “Bertholdt thinks you were going to propose, and I stopped you.” 

Reiner took in a sharp breath. “Bertholdt told you? I didn’t think he remembered that. He was so discombobulated by the epinephrine.” 

“Yes, he remembered what you said. He felt like you were using the moment to your advantage,” Annie replied. “In his medicated state, he could not have properly refused you. He was grateful that I stepped in and saved him from consenting to marriage while he was compromised. It reminded him a lot of his father.” 

Reiner was silent for a while; he felt completely broadsided. That had never been his intent— from the day he became Bertholdt’s friend, from the day that Reiner knew that he loved Bertholdt, he had inwardly made the promise that he would be a safe place. It was a promise that both he and Annie had made, especially when the trio decided that they would attend school in the States. But now he’d broken that promise. If he couldn’t keep his promises, how could he keep a marriage vow? 

“I swear to God, I didn’t even think of that,” Reiner finally said. “I just was so overjoyed, so glad he was alive and going to be okay. I am not anything like his father… I would never have played that situation to my advantage. It’s just, in moments when it seems like something will be taken away from you, you realize its value? That’s how I felt. In the moments I was seriously afraid Bertholdt would die, I knew how much he means to me.” 

Annie nodded, quietly passing the little box to Reiner. He stashed it in his pocket gratefully, his initial anger with Annie gone. “I know how you felt. That’s how I felt, too,” Annie admitted. “Bertholdt’s not my boyfriend, but you two, you’re my best friends. I thought of him dying, and it nearly made me cry. My heart felt sick at the prospect of that loss.” 

“What do I do now?” Reiner asked, staring up at the sky. 

“You need to explain to Bertholdt everything that you explained to me.” Annie yawned slightly. “You need to tell him that you were not trying to force his hand, and that you’re sorry. I don’t know if it’ll heal all wounds. Our Bertholdt is not quick to trust, but he might make an exception for you. He loves you.” 

“I hope he makes an exception for me…” Reiner said sadly as he got up from the bench and stretched. He felt very cold now, and he shivered slightly as the wind kicked up. “I should go home.” 

“Let me know how it goes,” Annie said in farewell, disappearing back into her apartment building. 

The house parties were still roaring on Greek Row as Reiner passed. This was the perfect time to be mugged, he knew, but somehow that did not worry him. Instead, he felt new apprehension gnawing at his gut as he made his way back home. He was worried that despite everything, his relationship with Bertholdt was damaged beyond repair. 

Reiner arrived back at the apartment to find Bertholdt sitting in the dark, a cup of tea in his hands. “It’s lonely out here on the couch,” Reiner heard his boyfriend mutter. He glanced at the tea kettle. There was hot water in it, and next to the kettle was a mug with a bag of Reiner’s favorite chamomile tea set aside. Reiner felt his eyes tear up; Bertholdt didn’t trust him, but he still loved Reiner, and it made Reiner’s heart ache. He rubbed his eyes before pouring himself a cup of tea and sitting down on the couch next to Bertholdt. 

“Where did you go?” Bertholdt asked softly. “I woke back up and found you gone from the apartment.” 

“I went to Annie’s. She and I needed to talk.” Reiner shifted uncomfortably. 

“I see…” Bertholdt sipped at his own peppermint tea. 

“Bertholdt, I’m really sorry for what happened at the hospital. What I said, about needing a ring— I didn’t mean it as a prelude to anything. I wasn’t going to propose. I was just overcome with emotion… I was so happy that you were alive. I didn’t realize that my words or actions could be seen as manipulative.” Reiner snuck a glance over at Bertholdt, to gauge his reaction. 

Bertholdt was staring at his bare feet. “So you didn’t seize the opportunity to use me?” he asked, cautious optimism in his voice. 

“Never. I would never do something like that to you,” Reiner said forcefully. “Annie is right. I’m better than your father. I know that you don’t ever deserve to be taken advantage of. You’re not a means to my end, you are always an end in your own right. Even if you don’t always think so.” There was nothing else he could say, he realized. The only thing he could do was wait for Bertholdt. 

“That means a lot to me,” Bertholdt finally said, his green eyes meeting Reiner’s hazel ones. 

“You mean a lot to me,” Reiner replied, daring to smile slightly. “My relationship with you is the most valuable thing in my life.” 

“More valuable than playing for Germany in the World Cup?” Bertholdt asked critically, giving Reiner a small frown. 

“Far more. Playing in the World Cup means nothing if you’re not in the crowd, cheering me on.” Reiner sighed. “I just hope you can forgive me.” He attempted to stifle a yawn, and failed. “I’m going to bed, Bertholdt. See you in the morning.” 

Wearily, Reiner trudged into his bedroom, stripping down to his underwear before slipping between the sheets. It felt empty without Bertholdt snuggled up next to him, wearing an old baggy t-shirt. Bertholdt always slept oddly, so much that, back when they lived in the cluster, their friends joked that they could use his sleeping positions to predict the weather. Reiner tried to force those thoughts out of his mind. It just made his heart ache. 

Reiner thought he was a sound sleeper in contrast to Bertholdt, but he found himself awake again in the middle of the night. The digits on his alarm clock glared _3:28_. He rolled over to see Bertholdt across from him, his boyfriend’s mouth slightly agape as he slept. Unable to contain his incredible joy, Reiner leaned over to kiss the curve of Bertholdt’s nose, before shutting his eyes again. 


	8. Drunken Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one-shot features Potato Girl Sasha Braus and a painful secret. Sasha gets trashed one night and is forced to spend the night on Marco and Jean’s couch.

Sasha was in trouble, and she knew it. She could barely talk, let alone walk straight, and her stomach was not happy with her, that was for certain. She put down her 6th vodka slime, reeling slightly. She glanced down the bar. Armin was talking with the bartender, who quickly served up two shots of peach vodka. Those shots quickly found their way into the hands of Reiner and Ymir; within seconds they were spluttering and cursing, both renouncing their hatred for fruity alcohol. 

Sasha had seen enough Saturday nights with the 104th to know that was the cue for Reiner and Ymir to return home to make up with their boyfriend and girlfriend, respectively. Sasha felt bad, really bad, and she realized that she could not make it back to Haggett Hall in her state when she misjudged the location of the door and slammed into the doorframe instead. 

“Sasha, you okay?” Connie asked, his flushed face shifting for a second from an expression of drunken glee to one of concern. 

Sasha laughed it off, but internally she was terrified. “Oh yeah, I am fine!” she said, her speech slurred even to her ears. 

“Seriously, Sasha,” Connie warned, “you’re really drunk. You’re an RA, if you get reported you’ll lose that job… I know you can’t afford to live here if you’re not an RA.” 

Connie, despite his own tipsy demeanor, struck fear into the heart of Sasha. That’s right… if she lost her position, her room and board would be gone, she would have to drop out, and she would be forced to return home. She felt her hands grow clammy as she let out a wail. This had the effect of drawing the 104th’s attention to her. 

“Sasha, do you have a stomach ache?” Mikasa asked calmly, her composure flawless even when she had a few drinks. 

“Mikasa! If I go back to the dorms, someone will see me and I will get reported for public drunkenness and then I will lose my position as a RA!” Sasha felt her heart beating super fast as she grabbed onto Mikasa’s arm. “Please let me stay with you tonight! I cannot go back to the dorm!” 

“Mikasa, you can’t let her stay with us,” Eren snapped, giving his sister a disgruntled look. 

“And it’s not like she can stay over with Reiner, Bertholdt, and I,” Annie added cooly.

Connie shook his head. “I’d bring you over to Elm Hall, but I’m pretty sure my roommate would be pissed.” 

Sasha sent Krista a pleading look. “ _Kamisama_ , please let me stay over!” Her knees buckled and she found herself kneeling on the sidewalk. 

Ymir scoffed. “Is the potato girl asking for our help?” she asked coldly, clearly still miffed over the peach vodka surprise. “Sorry, but there’s nothing I can ask for in return right now.” 

“Ymir!” Krista admonished, clearly frustrated. “Well, Sasha, we would, but…” she cast Ymir an irritated glance. 

“Sasha!” Marco cried, pushing through the rest of the 104th to grab her hand. The sudden human contact helped relieve some of the spinning sensation. “We’ll let you stay over! We’re not too far, you can sleep on our couch and go home in the morning when you feel better.” 

“Marco, why are you inviting her over?” Jean grumbled, but Marco ignored him. 

“C’mon, Sasha. Let’s get you to bed.” With that, Marco pulled her to her feet and allowed her to lean on him. She was too embarrassed and grateful to speak. With slow steps, Marco helped her down 43rd street. Behind them Jean mumbled, his long face drawn into a grumpy scowl. “Don’t worry, the apartment is not too far now,” Marco murmured, trying to encourage her. The prospect of a place to sleep where she wouldn’t get kicked out of the dorms was enough encouragement. 

The roar of I-5 seemed almost deafening to Sasha as Marco attempted to pull out his keys with one hand. Failing, he asked, “Jean, please get the door?” 

Jean did as told, grumbling something that Sasha could not catch. “Let’s take the elevator, Marco, the stairs will be impossible to navigate,” Jean stated. They walked through a courtyard to the elevator, Jean pressing the up button. The machine announced its arrival with a cheerful _ping!_ and Marco eased Sasha into it. Jean pressed a button with an angry forefinger. The 3 was illuminated brightly, almost giving Sasha a headache.

Within seconds Sasha was escorted out of the elevator and down the hall. Jean unlocked the door and held it open. Sasha took in the apartment quickly. There was a couch in the middle of the common space, two desks situated against either wall. “Here you can sleep, Sasha,” Marco murmured, helping her lie down on the couch and pulling off her sneakers. 

Jean made a beeline for what must be their bedroom. “Good night, you goody-two-shoes. We won’t have any food in our apartment when we wake up tomorrow. There’s a reason there’s a ban on Sasha staying over at anyone’s place.” 

“Jean… be quiet,” Marco cautioned, but Jean had slammed the door shut. 

Sasha rolled onto her side, feeling sicker than she had at the bar. It wasn’t because of the alcohol, though. It was what Jean had said. Had everyone just made excuses because behind her back, because they’d agreed, as a group, to never let her spend the night? 

Just because they thought she would eat everything? She felt her eyes tear up and she willed herself not to cry. 

Marco returned with a garbage can, a blanket, and a pillow. “In case you get sick during the night,” Marco said softly as he placed the garbage can next to the couch. 

“I promise I will not,” Sasha swore. 

“It’s okay, Sasha. It’s just in case.” Marco slid the pillow under her head and threw the blanket over her. Sasha made an attempt to hide her tears, but a couple rebelled and flowed down her cheeks. Marco gasped slightly, sitting down beside her on the couch. “Sasha, what’s wrong?” he asked softly, pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket and handing it to her. She missed on her first try, but managed to grab a hold of it with her second. 

“I am okay, Marco.” Her voice wavered noticeably. 

“No, you’re not okay. You’re about to cry,” Marco pointed out. “If you don’t feel comfortable telling me, that’s all right. But you can’t tell me that you’re okay. And anything you tell me will be held confidential. I won’t tell anyone.”

Sasha stared at a shadow on the wall as she spoke. “I am… from a very rural part of Alaska. It is close to the Arctic Circle. Summer days are long, but winters are almost in complete darkness. Living there… you learn to value things. Simple things. You cannot just throw things away.” 

“You always told us you were from Anchorage,” Marco said, surprise in his voice. 

“I did not want you to think poorly of me…” Sasha confessed. 

“We wouldn’t. You’re our friend, Sasha,” Marco assured her. 

“If I was your friend, then why— why am I not allowed to come over to people’s apartments? That’s right, Jean said I would just eat everything.” Sasha let out a loud wail.

Marco rubbed her back soothingly. “You’re my friend, at the least. I ignored Jean and let you over anyway. But you do have a bad reputation.” 

“Here— here’s the other thing about living in Alaska. We went hungry a lot. Food was not easy to come by. If I got two meals a day, I considered myself a lucky girl,” Sasha explained, curling into a ball. “I stole food when I could. I would— I’d take a little more than what I needed and hoarded it so that I could eat later. I was desperate to not go hungry.” 

“Sasha…” Marco murmured, his face lined with concern. “I’m so sorry, I never knew it was so bad where you came from.” 

“I came to Seattle, and suddenly, there is so much food, so much food in abundance, and people waste it,” Sasha continued, a hand balling into a fist. “I left the starving conditions behind, but I still return every summer, and I see all this food. I must eat. I must hoard. I don’t know when I will—I’ll have the opportunity to fill my stomach again.” 

“And here… we kind of thought you were a glutton,” Marco confessed. “I know that some thought you were superficial and food was the only thing in life you cared about.” 

“It is… no food, and you die,” Sasha whispered. “I don’t want to starve.” 

“We’ll make sure you don’t starve,” Marco replied, tucking the blanket around her. “And I won’t let anyone talk poorly about your compulsive eating from now on. I’m sorry you’ve felt the need to keep it hidden for so long. I really am.” He rubbed her back. “I know now that you can’t help it, and I’m mad at the others for belittling you so much you felt the need to hide.” 

Sasha reached out from under the blanket to grab Marco’s hand. “You won’t tell anyone?” 

“The rest of the 104th might understand better, and they would no longer make fun of you, if you told them,” Marco pointed out softly. “But that’s for you to decide, not for me to share. I won’t tell a soul about what you’ve said to me.” 

“Thanks, Marco.” Sasha stifled a big yawn. 

“Of course, Sasha,” he said with a smile. “You should sleep. Feel free to stay as long as you need tomorrow morning. Jean might complain, but I’ll tell him to shut his trap.” 

Sasha giggled slightly at the prospect of soft-spoken Marco using such harsh language. “Good night,” she said, this time unable to stifle her yawn. 

“Good night,” Marco echoed, slipping into the bedroom he shared with Jean. 

Sasha sank into her pillow, her eyelids feeling so heavy. She couldn’t help but think about what Marco had said, though. Telling everyone she had an eating disorder? For a long time, she felt like that would have only garnered their scorn, and maybe they wouldn’t believe her. After all, people who had eating disorders wanted to starve, not the opposite. She craved the understanding of her friends, though. And if they were her friends, then… they would give her their support. There had never been a time where the 104th wasn’t there for each other. 

Thanking Marco once again for his kindness and understanding, she let herself slip off to dreamless sleep.


	9. Verliebt, Verlobt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Published for Josie-theoneandonly's Reibert day. Reiner finally decides to propose to Bertholdt. While he prepares a romantic speech before popping the question, his proposal does not quite go as planned. Some very, very minor sexual content.

Bertholdt was right. The fourth floor of the chemistry building actually rumbled like a massive car or some oversized mythological beast. Bertholdt had said that the noise was caused by every fume hood in Bagley hall, and Reiner could not figure out how anyone was able to think clearly in such an environment. He’d never had a need to venture to the lab in which Bertholdt worked (though he’d been sure to learn of its location in the case of an emergency). Today, however, necessitated intercepting Bertholdt before he clocked out of the lab for the weekend.

The door to the lab was open, and inside he saw Bertholdt washing out the last of the test tubes, placing them gingerly on a rack to dry. He looked so content in his element, that Reiner simply stood in the doorway for a minute, watching as Bertholdt stored his goggles in a drawer and went to a desk.

“Hey, Bertl!” Reiner called out, giving his boyfriend a smile.

Bertholdt jumped, spinning around and nearly hitting his head on a cabinet. “Reiner!” he exclaimed, his eyes wide with surprise.

While succeeding in gaining Bertholdt’s attention, he had also succeeded in gaining the attention of the Bertholdt’s colleagues, some of which were eyeing him with a lot of interest.

“Oooh, who’s this, Bertholdt? Or can we start calling you Bertl now?” one woman asked teasingly, looking over the monitor of her computer at Reiner.

Bertholdt’s face was growing redder than a tomato. “H-he’s a friend,” Bertholdt stuttered, beads of sweat breaking out on his forehead. “…please don’t call me Bertl…”

“He’s not bad on the eyes,” another girl observed from where she was diluting some chemical. She made uncomfortable eye contact with Bertholdt. “Is he single?”

In the back corner, a dark haired man let out a derisive snort.

Bertholdt was sweating bullets and his face was beet red. Germans had the tendency to be a private people, and it was apparent that Bertholdt felt all his dirty laundry was being aired. “Er, uh, no… he’s my boyfriend,” Bertholdt blurted, grabbing his messenger bag from under his desk and making a beeline for the door. “Have a good weekend, Captain Levi,” he called to the dark haired man, receiving a “good work this week, Hoover” in response.

Reiner chuckled as Bertholdt rushed out into the hallway, pulling the hem of his shirt up to wipe the sweat from his face. He grew serious for a moment. “You sure coming out to your lab mates was a good idea?”

“No…” Bertholdt confessed, the redness leaving his olive skin. “I didn’t want to give them the wrong impression, though.” He leaned slightly into Reiner.

“I’m happy you called me your boyfriend,” Reiner admitted, trying to nuzzle Bertholdt but succeeding in nearly stumbling down the stairs. It was a relief to speak German again. With any luck, Reiner would not have to speak again in English for the rest of the evening.

Bertholdt flashed Reiner a shy smile. “What are you doing in Bagley, though? Shouldn’t you be working out with Ymir?”

“Ymir cancelled,” Reiner explained, thought that was a bit of a white lie. While he normally ventured to the IMA with Ymir on Friday afternoons, this Friday he had called it off. Ymir had teased him about getting fat and lazy in response.

“I see,” Bertholdt muttered, opening the door for Reiner. Outside the autumn air was brisk but the sky was clear; the water of Frosh Pond stood still except for the family of ducks paddling across it.

If there weren’t people around, Reiner might have said what he wanted to right that instant. But instead, he followed Bertholdt over to where his road bike was parked. Bertholdt fumbled with the bike lock, before sliding it out from between the spokes of the wheel. “I was looking forward to biking to Gasworks park, but I guess I can’t do that now.”

“I’ll balance on the fender of your bike and we can go together,” Reiner joked, smiling as he saw Bertholdt’s face scrunch up in mock worry.

“You’d break my poor bicycle,” Bertholdt countered. “You weigh too much for it.”

“Me? You look like you weigh too much for it, Bertl,” Reiner said with a chuckle. “Am I really that poor a substitute? You’d rather ride your bike than ride me?”

With that, Bertholdt’s face returned to a distinct scarlet. He swung up onto his bicycle and began pedaling up Rainier Vista, keeping a slow pace to match with Reiner. His face was still red, though whether from embarrassment or exertion, Reiner was unsure. He did marvel at how perfectly Bertholdt kept his bike balanced, even when going so slowly. Eventually, when they reached the border of UW campus, Bertholdt hopped off his bike, electing to walk it beside him with one hand.

They walked in silence, and Reiner began to feel the nerves that he’d worked to eradicate. If he’d been sure of the outcome, perhaps he wouldn’t feel that awful gnawing feeling in his stomach. A month had passed since that fateful evening at the hospital. Reiner had been deathly worried that Bertholdt would be slow in regaining trust, but since his conversation with Annie, Bertholdt had slept beside him. He’d also finally pulled the hospital bracelet off and had curled up with Reiner on the couch, to watch TV. They were little things, but they indicated to Reiner that their relationship had healed, at least partially.

The walk back to their apartment seemed to go on forever, but eventually the cherry red roof of the building glinted happily at them, beckoning them home. Bertholdt hoisted his bicycle onto his shoulder as they climbed the stairs; Reiner nearly fell up them as he fumbled for the keys. He would need to recollect himself, he scolded himself sternly as he turned the key in the lock and held the door open for Bertholdt. He watched as Bertholdt leaned his bike against the wall, pinning a towel between the two so that it wouldn’t leave a mark.

Bertholdt moved towards the couch, fetching his hoodie from under the coffee table. Reiner had to resist the urge to pull off the majority of his clothes. He’d made a conscious effort to dress nicely that day; though it was debatable how nice his baby-blue plaid shirt really was. He settled for pulling off his loafers as he sunk down onto the couch. He heard Bertholdt scuffling around in the kitchen, pulling out the proper materials for dinner that night.

“Are you doing all right?” Bertholdt asked softly, leaning over the back of the couch.

“Yeah…” Reiner mumbled, though he knew he was not all right. He was feeling more and more nervous. “I’m just tired.” He often napped while Bertholdt prepared dinner, so he lied down on the couch and shut his eyes. “Dinner is…?”

“Potato soup and Frikadellen with apple cake, the Karlsberg that you had shipped over to drink,” Bertholdt reminded him. “You asked me to make plans for a good German dinner. I’m making it like they do back home.”

Reiner let out a contented sigh at the prospect. “I’m looking very forward to it, Bertl. I’m going nap for a bit.”

“No Annie?” Bertholdt asked uncertainly.

“No Annie,” Reiner confirmed.

In all honesty, he was not going to nap, but the darkness behind his eyelids was soothing. He could not imagine living in Bertholdt’s skin, where he would deal with this anxiety over everything, every day. He tried to breathe in and out deeply— it was one of the things he told Bertholdt to help calm him. It helped slightly. He tried to rehearse the conversation once more in his head, but found that it just made him feel worse. There was nothing for it. Reiner could do nothing but let his mind grow blank as he pretended to sleep.

His stomach growled audibly as the apartment was filled with the scent of apple cake baking in the oven and potato broth simmering on the stove. It smelled like the food of his childhood, when he and Bertholdt and Annie would come running into the house of Frau Hoover. She always cooked enough for Reiner and Annie. Reiner reminisced about the kisses that she’d plant on his blond hair, with his too-long bangs. She’d adopted them into her small and broken family… Reiner hoped that one day, he’d be a member of her family officially as her son in-law.

He was returned to reality by Bertholdt planting a light kiss on his broad forehead. “Dinner’s almost ready,” he announced. “Could I convince you to clean up the table?”

Reiner sat up so abruptly he nearly felt dizzy. “Anything to help,” Reiner acknowledged, happy to busy his hands with something. Sprawled across the table were their textbooks and piles of papers. There were balanced chemical equations in Bertholdt’s rounded handwriting; long mathematical proofs were written with Reiner’s own strong print. He split the mathematics and the chemistry into two separate piles, stacking the textbooks in order of size and placed the loose sheets of paper on top. He weighted his work down with a graphing calculator. “Better, Bertl?” he asked, seeking approval.

“Much better,” Bertholdt replied, setting down two plates with beef Frikadellen and a slice of apple cake. He went back to the stove, returning with two steaming bowls of potato soup. Reiner fetched two bottles of Karlsberg out of the refrigerator, and with that they sat down to eat. “ _Guten Appetit_ ,” Bertholdt said with a smile, taking a sip of his beer.

Reiner tried to eat slowly as possible, savoring the cooking and simultaneously stalling for time. The potato soup was rich, with little flecks of bacon and large chunks of carrots; the beef dumplings were pan fried and seasoned with mustard. The apple cake had a spongy base, with warmed green apples sprinkled with cinnamon and drizzled with honey. There was no doubt that Bertholdt had put his heart and soul into preparing the meal. He had tried to replicate his mother’s cooking as closely as possible, and Reiner felt himself nearly moved to tears.

“You all right?” Bertholdt repeated, casting Reiner a very concerned look.

“I’m fine… you’ve really outdone yourself, Bertholdt. This is exactly like it is back home.” He saw Bertholdt flash him a small smile. He dipped his spoon back into the potato soup.

“I’m very glad to hear that.” Bertholdt resumed eating, delicately cutting through his Frikadellen with his fork.

“How was the work in the lab?” Reiner asked as casually as possible, the nerves getting to him again.

“It’s been progressing. I’m still waiting to hear about the award, but it’s looking hopeful,” Bertholdt answered. “The captain is sending out a manuscript to be published and I’m excited, because my name will be on it.”

“Your name on a paper, as a third year?” Reiner said, genuinely surprised.

Bertholdt blushed. “Y-yeah, I think so.” He made eye contact with Reiner. “And how was your week?”

“I got the homework done. That is enough for me,” Reiner replied. “You’re the over-achiever, remember, Bertl? I just play football.”

“That reminds me… you asked me not to make plans to help anyone with homework, and you didn’t go to the gym with Ymir.” Across the table, Bertholdt’s face was scrunched up with concern. “What’s going on?”

Reiner found himself at a loss for words. The conversation that he had planned ahead deserted him and his heart was racing. This was the moment he’d been fidgeting during lecture over, the reason why he’d made these plans. It was here and he was making a mess of it. There was only one thing he really could do at this point. With fumbling, unresponsive fingers, he pulled the small, velvet-covered black box out of the pocket of his khakis, and slid it across the table. As Bertholdt caught it, Reiner blurted out the only thing he could think of to say: “ _Verliebt, verlobt, verheiratet*?”_

He buried his face, hot with embarrassment, in his hands. He could hear the slight creak of the hinge as the Bertholdt opened the box and his subsequent gasp of surprise. Somehow Reiner summoned the courage to uncover his eyes, and properly look at his boyfriend. His mouth had gone dry and his tongue wasn’t functioning properly any more. He managed to stutter, “B-Bertholdt Hoover, marry me?”

“Yes,” Bertholdt said, his voice nothing more than a whisper.

“What?” Reiner blubbered, newfound hope coursing through him. But he needed to hear it again, and maybe a third time, just to be certain.

Bertholdt slipped the simple gold band onto the fourth finger of his left hand. “Yes, Reiner Braun,” he affirmed, a broad smile breaking across his face.

Reiner felt as though he was going to cry from relief and joy. He shakily got up from the table, leaning over the chair to embrace Bertholdt awkwardly. Bertholdt stood up, almost slamming his shoulder into Reiner’s nose; Reiner pulled him close, burying his face in Bertholdt’s shoulder. Before he knew it, Bertholdt’s lips had met his, still sweet from the cinnamon and honey. He playfully bit down on Bertholdt’s lower lip, his boyfriend’s hands gripping at the fabric of Reiner’s shirt.

“May I?” Reiner asked as he tugged up slightly on Bertholdt’s hoodie. Bertholdt gave a nod, and with that Reiner eased both the baggy purple sweatshirt and the tee shirt over Bertholdt’s head. In response, with nervous hands Bertholdt began unbuttoning Reiner’s plaid shirt, placing a tender kiss underneath Reiner’s jaw.

Without another word Reiner escorted Bertholdt to the couch, which really wasn’t large enough for either of them. He carefully straddled Bertholdt, supporting his boyfriend’s— no, fiancé’s— head in his hands. Then he leaned down to kiss Bertholdt again, wiping away the sweat from his lover’s forehead with the cuff of his shirt.

As Bertholdt wrapped his bare arms around Reiner, he could feel himself growing hard. He gave Bertholdt a cheeky smile; he was giving a nervous glance in return. “You’re not there yet?” Reiner whispered softly, receiving a small “no” as an answer.

Reiner began by massaging Bertholdt’s shoulders, bending down to place kisses across his fiancé’s chest. He ran his hands down Bertholdt’s torso, which elicited a small gasp. He made his touches as sensual as possible, knowing well that Bertholdt craved that. Reiner pulled his lover into another kiss, brushing the dark hair out of Bertholdt’s eyes. As Reiner pulled away, Bertholdt murmured, “I’m ready”. Reiner eased himself off the couch, placing one more kiss on Bertholdt’s forehead, and was about to dig through a bathroom drawer when he heard three sharp knocks upon their apartment door.

“Annie’s here!” Bertholdt exclaimed, rushing to throw on his shirt again. He promptly sat down on the couch, using his hoodie to hide a fairly obvious erection. He was sweating profusely.

Reiner immediately felt his face grow hot with embarrassment. He slammed the drawer shut, and cursing Bertholdt only just a little for leaving him the unpleasant task of answering the door, he greeted Annie. Her blue eyes glanced down briefly, and with a shake of her head she entered their apartment. “Would you like me to give you ten more minutes?” she asked sardonically.

“N-No,” Reiner stammered, sinking down onto the couch beside Bertholdt.

“What did you make for dinner, Bertl?” Annie asked nonchalantly, as if this was normal course for her.

“Potato soup, beef Frikadellen, apple cake,” Bertholdt rattled off, clearly uncomfortable. “There’s still some apple cake… you can have it, Annie.”

“There’s also some Karlsberg in the fridge,” Reiner added. “You should have some.”

“Potato soup and Frikadellen…” Annie muttered. “I could smell it, as I came in. It smelled like the Hoover home, in Güdingen. Complete with the smell of Bertl sweat.”

Bertholdt inarticulately sputtered. Reiner let out an awkward laugh, though he was starting to feel distinctly uncomfortable. Not like he would admit that to Annie, though. “Grab some cake and beer, Annie, and sit down,” Reiner suggested, sitting down on the couch next to Bertholdt.

Annie did help herself to the last of the apple cake, but she chose to sit off in her throne, casting the boys a distinctly annoyed look. “Normally you two wait until after I’ve left.”

“Er, well— We have some news for you, Annie,” Reiner admitted, his face growing hot again.

“Yes, your pants are telling me all I need to know,” Annie retorted.

“No… We mean, serious news.” Bertholdt made eye contact with Annie. “Reiner and I… are going to get married.”

Annie’s scowl instantaneously dissipated. “You’re serious? Reiner, you proposed?”

“Er, yes, in a fashion. It wasn’t as coherent as what I’d rehearsed in my head,” Reiner said sheepishly.

“Anyway, I said yes.” Bertholdt flashed her the gold band he now wore on his hand.

“I suppose I’ll let you guys off the hook for that,” Annie conceded, smiling slightly. “I’m happy for you. And… I’m sorry for coming over unannounced. I can leave, if you two want the evening to yourselves.”

“Annie, it’s okay,” Bertholdt assured her. “Reiner and I will survive, you enjoy your cake.”

“No, Reiner and Bertholdt will not survive,” Reiner countered, feeling incredibly uncomfortable now.

Annie rolled her eyes. “Fine. I’ll give you your ten minutes. Just… try to be quiet, okay?”

With that, Reiner pulled Bertholdt off the couch, and into their bedroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Verliebt, verlobt, verheiratet: German saying meaning "in love, engaged, married".


End file.
